Neon Lights
by ceruleanblues
Summary: AU. "If you're looking for the good stuff, I know where it is."


**A/N: **Hi guys! So this is a oneshot based off a prompt by OhHeyAl who wanted 'a story where Sam and Quinn first meet in a college party, or something like that', and that I promised I was working on. Hope you guys like it!

Enjoy!

xXx  
CeruleanBlues

* * *

**Neon Lights**

**Baby, when they look up at the sky  
****We'll be shooting stars just passing by  
****You'll be coming home with me tonight  
****We'll be burning up like neon lights**

Truthfully, Quinn Fabray wasn't fond of house parties—especially not one hosted by a group of notorious frat boys—because it meant that she would be spending the next four hours or so dodging sloppy drunks and over-enthusiastic college freshmen who were incapable of keeping their hands to themselves, but exam week and back-to-back trainings had driven her spare, and she really needed an out. Tina Cohen Chang—her roommate—had so generously offered herself up as the designated driver—bless her heart—and she was planning on taking full advantage of that. Perhaps she should puke tonight, preferably on Mercedes Jones' shoes, for all the troubles the hussy had caused.

"This place is a war zone and sex orgies just waiting to happen," the petite Asian murmured as soon as they entered through the front door to the thumping of hip-hop beats blasting from the speakers.

Quinn had to agree on the sole basis that it was entirely true. Among the handful of times she had attended such social events, she couldn't recall a time when she escaped unscathed by traumatic experiences of seeing more penises, breasts and vaginas than she actually cared for. Basic propriety hardly ever stuck long enough for hormonally-imbalanced individuals to seek the privacy of a room, and the last thing she needed was a cameo of her face in a homemade porn video, thank you very much.

A group of burly football players were huddled by a beer keg, cheering obnoxiously loud for their fellow teammate who was chugging through a hose, and it was all too primitive, really. People were jumping about and wriggling and grinding in the epicenter of it all, drinks sloshing everywhere, the air sticky with sweat and smoke, and in all random spots, couples and non-couples alike were hedonistically indulging in their libidos. There were tongues and fumbling and moaning, and she really didn't want to know the color of Brittany S. Pierce's thong, but she wasn't going to tap Santana Lopez on the shoulder and inform her of her girlfriend's indecent exposure, and definitely not when she noticed a finger disappearing underneath it seconds later. Forcefully, she tore her eyes away before the image could scar her some.

"Hey, Quinn!" Rachel Berry squealed in her ear, popping out of nowhere and wrapping a scrawny arm around her neck. For such a small girl, she had a surprisingly strong grip. The alcohol was evident on her breath, if the glazed look in her chocolate eyes weren't obvious enough that she was definitely intoxicated. "Quinnie, Quinn, Quinn. Look at you! You're here!" she giggled. "Love the L.B.D, by the way; you look hot! If I weren't so in love with Finn, I'd totally bone you right now."

Gently dislodging herself from the tight hold, she offered a warm smile to her high school friend. "Alright, Rachel, what's the damage this time?"

The brunette pouted. "I just had two."

Quinn arched a brow, not fooled at all. "Really?" she deadpanned.

Huffing, Rachel threw her hands up in the air. "Fine, I had five, alright? But I'm totally fine! I feel fine! I promise you, I'm not drunk."

"You're starting to slur, and your shoes are missing."

"Nag, nag, nag," she tutted, before snatching a red plastic cup from an unsuspecting stranger and shoving it clumsily into Quinn's chest. "You need a drink. Go hang your sticks for the night and have fun!"

With a parting slap to the blonde's derriere, the Broadway-loving senior skipped off into the sea of gyrating bodies. Tina had disappeared, it seemed, and she was starting to feel ridiculous just standing there like a sad loser, but she wasn't about to finish up someone else's lager, so she headed for the beer station in the kitchen. Squeezing through the throng of people utterly sober wasn't fun at all, and the heavy bass was fast making her head throb, and she just really needed some good old-fashioned vodka or a tequila, or something better to work with than malt and barley.

**Be still my heart 'cause it's freaking out, it's freaking out, right now  
****Shining like stars 'cause we're beautiful, we're beautiful, right now**

The kitchen was buzzing with a group doing body shots on the center island, a busty redhead on her back, clad in just a red bra and denim shorts while a dude sporting a Mohawk lapped up the trail of salt on her torso. A round of hoots, catcalls and whistles exploded in the jam-packed space when he sucked on the slice of lemon and practically inhaled her mouth like a damn hoover.

"Eat her up on your own time, Puck," someone snorted, cueing a round of laughter and a long string of lewd teasing from the rest.

She spotted the cooler hidden at a discreet corner by the sink and grinned triumphantly. As inconspicuously as possible, she drew it closer, knowing that it was only a matter of time before somebody realized her presence. She lifted the lid and frowned.

"What the hell?" she muttered under her breath.

It was empty; just half-filled with ice and nothing else, and devastatingly disappointed, Quinn groaned in frustration.

"If you're looking for the good stuff, I know where it is."

"Oh!" she yelped, whipping around to find a boyishly good-looking lad smirking at her in amusement. He was blonde, hair so shaggy, they were falling all over his Emerald green eyes, and had such insanely full lips, there was probably a website dedicated just for them. A telltale flush of slight inebriation coated his cheeks in what she considered to be rather endearing, and she reckoned she could disregard the varsity letterman jacket he was donning. "Erm…I wasn't—"

**You're all I see in all these places  
****You're all I see in all these faces  
****So let's pretend we're running out of time, of time**

"Hate to break it to you, Blondie, but you were," he remarked knowingly.

She sighed and planted one hand on her hip. "Alright, fine, you got me."

"You look gorgeous, by the way," he added as though it was an afterthought. "Love the dress. I don't think I've seen you around before. Are you a Kappa Delta?"

Quinn tried her hardest not to take too much offense, only because her mom and sister had been in a sorority, which meant that she was the black sheep of the family. It was humiliating, of course, but that wasn't a chapter in her life that she wanted to revisit. Her silence probably said it all, for his expression turned sheepish and he started rubbing the nape of his neck.

Swiping tendrils of hair out of her face, she tapped her fingers impatiently on the counter. Behind them, the group roared in victory over God-knew-what. She cleared her throat, grasping for a way to escape the awkwardness. "You were saying something about the good stuff?"

His entire features lit up, and then he was tugging on her wrist with an impish wink sent her way.

**Baby, when they look up at the sky  
****We'll be shooting stars just passing by  
****You'll be coming home with me tonight  
****We'll be burning up like neon lights**

* * *

They made it to a room—the question of whose it was lost somewhere between the heated snogging and desperate groping that occurred along the way up those vexatious sets of stairs—and in their hasty tango to eliminate layers of clothing as fast as humanly possible, he lost his footing. Giggling and stumbling about the darkness, she felt the back of her knee bump into an object before she found herself falling onto a pile of soft mattress. He followed right after, strong arms propping his weight up as he hovered over her. The sound of heavy breathing echoed in the space, his warmth seeping into her skin where they were connected—her clad in matching lacy black lingerie and him in nothing but boxer briefs—chests rising and falling in perfect tandem, and she was suddenly aware that she didn't know him at all. Their formal introductions had fallen flat in exchange for suggestively smoldering looks and other more orally-compliant actions.

"I'm Quinn, by the way," she whispered, her words still particularly loud in the silence.

"Sam Evans," he murmured, trailing his full lips down the side of her jaw. It sent a rush of tingles down her spine, and involuntarily, she shivered under his ministrations. "Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise."

He swooped down and in one smooth move had her mouth captured in his. Her heart plunged, a cliff-dive that plummeted to the swirling depths of her libido, and she might or might not have keened when his meticulous tongue gave proper attention to every single crevice of her teeth. In all of her measly life, she had never been so thoroughly kissed before; ravished so passionately, it was making her head spin.

**Baby, when they look up at the sky  
****We'll be shooting stars just passing by  
****You'll be coming home with me tonight  
****We'll be burning up like neon lights**

"So, what are you majoring in?"

Her fuzzy brains caught up to her seconds later while he laved and nipped on the slope of her neck, one hand gently curling around her waist. His question came out in low growls, and as he ground his hips into hers, the reply she had ready flew completely out the metaphorical window. She attempted to rein herself in—to establish some semblance of control—but the way he was fingering the strap of her brassiere proved to be quite a massive distraction. Cheeks flushed, she reckoned she should do something—anything—to even the playing fields.

"Art History," she sighed, sifting through the strands of his hair, inviting and so much softer than she thought. "What about you?"

With a flick of his wrist, he unsnapped the hook of her undergarment and unceremoniously tossed it aside. "Astronomy," he grunted before delving down to indulge himself with her right nipple.

She gasped, arching into his touch, and in return dragged her nails down the side of his torso to cup his hardened bulge through the cotton fabric. A hiss escaped from his throat, a satisfying sound that morphed into a long, guttural groan when she playfully gave an experimental squeeze.

"Sophomore?" he asked, nuzzling his nose in the valley between her breasts.

"Junior," she replied, almost on autopilot. "Running back?"

He was baby-smooth underneath her palms as she dipped below the waistband of his pants, tracing the hard contours of his pelvic bones.

"Quarterback," he grated out, hooking his thumbs over the flimsy material covering her most intimates and drawing it down the length of her legs. "Cheerleader?"

His hot breath fanned over her slicked sex. "Are you a sucker for clichés?" she retorted, though the sarcasm didn't quite live up to its intent.

"Dancer?"

She snickered. "Good try."

"Gymnast?" he guessed again, chuckling as he inched closer. "Synchronized swimming?"

"I think I'm starting to see a pattern," she muttered.

**Neon lights**

His head popped up from between her thighs, and she almost whimpered at the loss, but then he was discarding the final piece of barrier between them and crawling back up to position himself in the very threshold of her femininity. The velvety tip of his manhood poked and prodded at her entrance, teasing and igniting a maelstrom of sensations that had her squirming for more.

"Drumline."

She blinked; stunned that he had figured it out.

"How'd you—"

He seized her lips, effectively cutting her off.

"The only female on the battery," he drawled. "That's pretty impressive on its own."

Of course.

Narrowing her eyes, she pointedly tapped a digit on his bicep. "You already knew who I was."

She felt his shoulders bop in a shrug. "Hard not to when my roommate's the president of the Quinn Fabray fan club."

**Neon lights**

"That's a joke, right?"

"Let's find out after this, shall we?" he quipped back, and in a single stroke, filled her to the hilt.

She cried out to the ceiling, clutching onto the bedspread as he sank deeper.

**Neon lights**

"Shit," he husked, the muscles in his back pulled taut with an effort to refrain himself from pounding into her like a bleeding jackhammer. "Shit, shit, shit."

"You okay?"

**Like neon lights, oh**

He hummed; eyes squeezed shut as their foreheads met. She accommodated him easily, gloving him in a wholly compatible fit, and it was all lovely and snug, but the need for friction quickly overtook. Deciding to take matters into her own hands, Quinn snaked her legs around his tapered hips and rocked into him.

Sam gulped audibly. "You're so tight, though."

"Is it going to be a problem?"

His blonde fringe fell over as he shook his head. "No."

"Good."

**Like neon lights, oh**

* * *

A dull thud jolted her awake, and when she heard the distant sounds of muffled giggling, she scrambled to free herself from the tangled mess of limbs and sheets, but when she felt the person next to her stir in his sleep, she froze. Mentally chiding her stupidity, she gingerly glanced over to ensure that he was still properly knocked out before slipping from underneath the duvet.

Fully aware that she was still standing stark naked in someone else's bedroom, Quinn began picking up scraps of fabric from the floor, trying to determine which ones belonged to her. The bra was easy enough, as was her dress, but her knickers still remained obscure. Outside, the voices grew louder. Realizing that time was of essence, she hastily dressed herself and made to pick up her boots from beside a wardrobe. Tiptoeing across the space towards the door, she turned on the knob to sneak out, only to find two people standing in front of her with identical astonished expressions on their faces.

**Be still my heart 'cause it's freaking out, it's freaking out, right now  
****Shining like stars 'cause we're beautiful, we're beautiful, right now**

"Erm…hi."

"Holy fucking shit; did he just screw you in there?" the guy—the one she remembered from the kitchen, with the Mohawk and the body shots—snickered, looking somewhat impressed, that she wasn't sure whether she ought to be offended or not.

"Puck!" the girl—not the busty redhead on the center island from earlier on—but a rather demure-looking brunette wearing rose-tinted glasses and a giant red bow in her hair, admonished. "God, have a bit more tact, would you?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," he retorted sarcastically, eyeing her disheveled state, lewdly appraising her from head to toe. "Did you and my roommate engage in sexual intercourse?"

It wasn't any less crude or crass, and she'd be damned if she allowed his lack of prudence to slide even though this was all too new for her—being caught doing the inevitable 'walk of shame'—but she was still stunned speechless. Downstairs, the music kept on blaring, the speakers thumping and reverberating off the walls. The awkwardness grew, fast-tracking towards creepy as Puck continued leering.

"Erm…" she coughed.

"That lucky son of a bitch," he exclaimed, outwardly envious. "Was he a good lay, then?"

The girl swatted at him. "Rude, much. Just let her go, already. Quinn has better things to do than listen to you make inappropriate comments about her coital experience."

Head swimming, she wondered exactly how many people actually knew her, and the surprise must've been evident on her face because the redhead gave her an assuring wave of her hands.

"The guys wouldn't stop talking about you the moment you arrived," she said, as though it was the answer to her burning questions.

"Right." Drawing out the syllables, Quinn shuffled around to escape. "Well, nice to meet you—both of you."

She couldn't descend the stairs fast enough, blood whooshing into her cheeks from the mortifying encounter. There was no doubt that news would travel, and she wasn't in the mood to stick around long enough to figure out her train ticket on the express lane. Locating Tina at the corner talking to a fellow Asian—a fit-looking Chinese guy—she pulled her aside.

**You're all I see in all these places  
****You're all I see in all these faces  
****So let's pretend we're running out of time, of time**

"I'm thinking I'm going to head out now."

Her petite friend gazed at her contemplatively. "You okay? Did something happen?"

"No," Quinn blurted out a little too quickly, and then grimaced once she was aware of what she unintentionally did. "It's—it's nothing, really. I'm just not really in the mood—"

"Alright, sure," Tina interrupted before she could start rambling. "Let me go grab my purse and we can—"

"No, no. You can stay, honestly. I'll walk back; it's not a big deal."

Tina looked skeptical. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," Quinn replied with outmost conviction. "Besides, that guy you were talking to is rather yummy."

"I call dibs," the other girl giggled, a tinge of pink coating her face. "Fine, if you're sure—"

"Positive."

"Okay, then, I'll see you later."

After a brief parting hug, Quinn gave her a motivational shove.

"Don't have too much fun," she added just for cheeks.

* * *

In hindsight, she probably should've caught a ride with somebody she knew, because the shoes were killing her feet, and she still had four more blocks to go. The night was chilly and her sorry excuse for a cardigan was more pretty than it was functional. Teeth chattering from the cold, she rubbed her hands down the length of her arms before speeding up in her strides.

Events of the evening played back in her head like a movie special on HBO.

Sam Evans.

That had been one hell of a development. Falling into bed with a random stranger was never a habit of hers; well, not one she actively practiced, but as she waited for the bitter wave of guilt to crash over her, she realized that she had nothing to regret about. She was blissfully single; Sam was quite handsome—even if his face to lips ratio was off—and he did look genuinely nice from what little conversation they had swapping interests. The worst that could come out of their little romp fest would be that he was secretly a serial killer on the loose.

Hardly likely.

She recalled how he was so attentive to her needs, ensuring that it wasn't simply a wham-bham-thank-you-ma'am, and she wouldn't admit it later, but she might have blacked out a bit during her second orgasm. In fact, her knees were still a bit wobbly from the fervent ordeal. All in all, it was definitely the best shag of her life.

Damn Sam Evans.

Preoccupied, she didn't notice a car pull up next to her until the abrupt sound of the horn startled her out of her reverie and almost sent her sprawling on the sidewalk. Regaining equilibrium, she turned to snap at the ignorant driver, only to stop short when the window rolled down and a blonde head popped out.

Speak of the devil.

"Hey," he grinned. "You did a disappearing act on me."

Her brain went into overdrive sourcing for an excuse tangible enough that didn't make her sound like an insensitive tart, but came up empty. The unexpected ambush caught her completely off-guard, and she wondered if he'd just follow her again if she made a run for it. As if sensing her thoughts, his expression turned to one of mild panic.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean—" he blew out a puff of air, nervously rubbing the nape of his neck. "Hop in. I'll give you a lift back."

**Baby, when they look up at the sky  
****We'll be shooting stars just passing by  
****You'll be coming home with me tonight  
****We'll be burning up like neon lights**

A refusal was on the tip of her tongue, ready to jump out at the first opportunity, but at the earnest look in his striking green eyes, she felt her defense falter. Gnawing thoughtfully on her bottom lip, she paused long enough to consider his offer; long enough for the uncertainty to creep into his boyish features. It was almost painful to deny him, so she did the unheard of and wordlessly climbed into the passenger seat.

His car wasn't anything flashy—probably a hand-me-down from his dad—and it smelt distinctly male.

"Sorry for the mess," he began sheepishly; lobbing what appeared to be a stray gym sock to the back of the car. "I didn't really have the time to clean in here; it smells a bit nasty."

She shrugged it off. "It's fine. Did Puck wake you?"

"Among other things," he said, feigning nonchalance. "The other bed squeaking, him going 'fuck, fuck, fuck', and a gorgeous blonde missing from my arms…"

In the cramped space, it was almost suffocating. They sat for a good minute before the silence became deafening.

"How far off are we from your place?"

"Not far," she replied as steadily as possible, hoping he wasn't able to hear the rapid beating of her heart. "A couple of blocks away."

**Baby, when they look up at the sky  
****We'll be shooting stars just passing by  
****You'll be coming home with me tonight  
****We'll be burning up like neon lights**

Sam nodded and set the car into gear.

* * *

When he killed the engine fifteen minutes later, the tension was undeniably palpable; thick and hovering like a blanket of white smoke. She slid her gaze over to peer at him from the corner of her eyes; his fingers were still curled around the steering wheel, clenched so tight, his knuckles were turning white.

"Thanks," she whispered. "For the lift, and for tonight. I—I had a great time."

The corner of his lips twitched in a tiny smile. "You don't have to do this, you know."

She tilted her head, glancing at him quizzically. "Do what?"

"This civility," he replied, gesturing to the space between them. "It's painful, isn't it? Way too formal for what we had done earlier on."

"Sam—"

"No, hear me out," he pressed on and turned his body to face her properly. "I don't—I don't know about you, but I'm not the one-night-stand sort of guy. Think what you want about frat boys; we're not all like Noah Puckerman. I don't just go round sleeping with random girls on campus, and you can call it temporary insanity for all I care, but I've only had two girlfriends in my entire life, so for me, sleeping with you is a big deal, Quinn Fabray."

"Did you fuck me because you knew who I was?"

He didn't falter under her intense scrutiny. "I wanted to fuck you even before I knew who you were, but maybe that's because you entered the room and I knew you weren't like any of the other girls."

She was intrigued by his answer, folding her arms across her torso to regard him more closely, trying to figure out his bullshit. "Please feel free to elaborate."

**You're all I see in all these places  
****You're all I see in all these faces  
****So let's pretend we're running out of time, of time**

His eyes flickered down to her hands for a fleeting second before reverting his attention back to her face. "Would you believe me if I said that it wasn't my intention to have sex with you?"

"That depends on what your initial intention had been."

"I just wanted to talk to you," he confessed, a shyness in his voice that resonated with the deepening blush on his cheeks. "I wanted you to look at me, to notice me, and I wanted to know who you were—not your name, but you—your quirks and your pet peeves. I wanted to find out what ticks you off and what turns you on, and it's silly, really, but I just wanted to hear your voice."

"Wow, that's actually cheesy."

Sam chuckled bashfully. "I know, I'm sorry—"

**Like neon lights, oh**

"Not to mention the epitome of cliché romance movies—"

He dove in to capture her mouth, stifling her squeak of surprise and devouring the rest of her sentence. Warm, calloused fingers danced in the tendrils of her hair, his thumbs painting circles on the soft skin at the side of her face, and she was once again consumed by his presence. His tongue traced languid strokes on the seams of her lips, his teeth nipping where he deemed necessary. In her sobriety, she was drunk on his kisses.

**Like neon lights, oh**

"The lady doth protest too much," he muttered when at long last they parted.

She gave coherence a try, only to fail miserably.

"Alright, so here's what we're going to do," Sam announced, annoyingly composed. "I'm going to ask you out on a date, and you're going to agree. We'll do dinner tomorrow at six-thirty; I'll pick you up. Then, I'm taking you out to this great bar with an amazing jazz band that serves this completely delicious New York cheesecake, and when the night is over, you can decide if I'm worth your time. What do you say?"

Her wit was having a hard time catching up to his seemingly thought-out speech.

**Be still my heart 'cause it's freaking out**

"Okay."

* * *

**A/N:** The end! LOL! That last bit had a few remnants of THA Chapter 10, but yeah, I kind of wrote them back-to-back so I hadn't done much of a mind-switch between the stories. Not the most straightforward 'meeting at the party', but I hope you like it OhHeyAl!

Song used: "Neon Lights" by Demi Lovato


End file.
